I Smile Through Your Tears
by Mrs Don Draper
Summary: Inspired by tonight's episode: "Favors" as well as sparepencils' doodle on tumblr of Bob Benson with the quote: "That day you fell down the stairs was the day I fell in love with you." Pairing is Bob Benson/Pete Campbell.


"That day you fell down the stairs was the day I fell in love with you."

"Shut up," Pete bites out, forcing Bob over onto his stomach.

For a moment, Pete is too stunned to do anything except look at the naked man taking up space in his bed. His dick is hard in his hand, and for the first time in his life, he doesn't need to bother with whether or not he needs to wear a condom. And yet a nagging voice at the back of his head asks him if he ireally/i wants to get his dick dirty...

"Having second thoughts? It's okay if you're nervous, Peter. I'll tell you how to do it. I'm already lubed up, and I suggest you do the same. After that, it's whenever you're ready...or not. There are other things we can do instead," Bob reasons.

He's smiling up at Pete from where his head is pillowed on his crossed arms, looking over his beach-tanned shoulder. It's that infuriating smile. The one that you can practically ihear/i, and it drives Pete up a wall.

"Stop talking to me. You're breaking my concentration."

Pete closes his eyes—to block out that grin—and begins stroking his flagging erection. He wants to fuck this bastard, this pain, who won't leave anyone the hell alone, but his dick is making things difficult. He remembers that time he fucked Trudy from behind and convinces himself it's basically the same idea...

He reopens his eyes and lines up his dick, trying not to think too much about what he's about to do. But hell's bells, if he thinks about it at all, he'll lose his nerve completely! In the end, Pete decides just to dive in all at once, forcing a grunt from between Bob's clenched teeth.

"W-was that icompletely/i necessary, Peter?"

Ah, at last! That smile wavers. Pete puts on a smug look of his own after he gets over the initial feeling of being encased inside Bob Benson. Oh God...

"Honestly, Bob, yes. Yes it was. Problem?"

Pete sweats as he tries to keep control over himself, torn between utter lust and total disgust.

"Mmm, no. Of course not. Shall we continue?"

Goddammit, how does he manage to be so calm? If a dick up his ass isn't enough to do it, then what could possibly do it? Frustrated, Pete slides his hips back to thrust back in again, trying to savor the slippery slide the lube provides. It's warm and wet around his cock, but there is no way to pretend he isn't fucking another man. No woman moans that deeply or flexes that amount of muscle. He grabs Bob by the hips and fucks him harder. What better way to work off anger than a meaningless fuck with a meaningless fuck? Pete laughs at his own joke.

"I can feel your laughter inside me," Bob murmurs, almost as if to himself.

He didn't exactly mean for Peter to hear him say that, but he couldn't help himself. He always did become more sensitive—physically and emotionally—when he was this close to another man. It even gave Pete a moment's pause. And for those seconds, motives dropped away. This connection between them was begging for attention. Bob could feel his happiness, even if he didn't know that it was at his own expense.

"That's...nice," responds Pete lamely.

He could have made a snappy comment, but he would have been lying if he said the thought wasn't momentarily humbling. But enough of that nonsense. Pete remembers that shit with his mother's nurse and shoves into Bob roughly over and over. Their moans echo in his small bedroom. It's incredibly disconcerting for Pete to hear them like this, and suddenly his hips slow down again as his dick begins to lose interest again.

"Fuck!"

Only half hard now, he has to stop altogether. Bob sighs deeply and rolls over to see a red-faced Pete Campbell trying to avoid eye contact with him.

"Peter, it's okay if you're not attracted to men. You don't have to do this. I can go and never mention this again."

And there's that ismile/i again. His well-meaning, shit-eating grin. He hears the slap before he even realizes he smacked him. Bob puts a hand to his burning cheek in shock. The smile is gone again, and Pete can breathe. Before he loses his nerve again, Pete tackles Bob with a muted roar, roughly placing his legs on his shoulders. This way he would know first hand if that smirk was on his face or not.

"I'm not attracted to men, and I'm certainly not attracted to you. You're here because I need a hole for my dick, and you were the first one that came running. End of story. I'm going to fuck you now."

Though Peter's words are harsh, he waits for Bob's nod before proceeding. Now there are no doubts as to why either of them are here.

The new angle gives Pete a modicum of control, and Bob lets him go at his own pace. He wants to give this to Peter. Maybe the man will be kinder to him in the future. After all, if forced into a corner, nothing was to stop him from revealing Peter's preferences even if it hurt him in the process. He was a nobody, an accountant. But Peter? Peter has power. He reaches down a hand to stroke himself off, watching Peter work above him with a determined face. He looks so serious and angry. Perhaps this will help him alleviate some of that pent up stress. A lock of hair falls onto his forehead and Bob can't help but smooth it back into place.

"Don't touch me. Isn't this enough for you?"

Bob lets out a stuttering sigh and tries to project that yes, this is enough, through a wan smile. The man is obviously so far in the closet he doesn't even know why he's surrounded by coats and shoes all the time.

"Stop smiling at me. Why do you do that? You're ruining this right as I'm about to go off."

Oh. So that was what the slap was for. He nods at Peter and bites his bottom lip to keep any errant grins off his face and closes his eyes as well in case they also betray him. And though Peter's words are cruel, he is quite close himself, even if Peter lacks finesse in their coupling.

Peter comes shortly after his scolding, and he collapses onto him, his legs falls off his shoulders, and he tucks his face into Bob's neck with a groan. He's not sure if he imagines it or not, but he thinks he feels Peter's lips move against his jaw, and his oversensitized brain sets him off as well. And he absolutely cannot help it when his arms come up to wrap around Peter's creamy-white skin. Peter lets him do so for a brief moment before shoving away from him.

"You may wash up and then you may leave. I trust this won't be an issue for you."

Bob realizes that it's not a question, and he sorely moves off the bed and into Peter's bathroom. He doesn't stay in the shower longer than he absolutely needs to. Peter hands him his clothes when he leaves the bathroom and dresses quickly and quietly. Campbell, he notes, is already in pajamas and dressing gown and his top sheet has been discarded in a corner of the room. It looks as if he were never even really there at all...

"Good-bye, Peter," he says kindly, hand outstretched.

"That's Mr. Campbell, to you, Benson."

It isn't hard not to have a smile when he's being given such a chilly send off. At least he shakes his hand, albeit brusquely. He quickly after the cold exchange and flinches when the door clicks shut with menacing finality.

When his footsteps have faded, Pete finally allows himself to cry.


End file.
